


not just a name on a list

by sedanley



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), College, Explicit Language, Fuckboy Bill, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sort Of, Stenbrough, there's no sex but there's like... build up to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 07:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20689793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sedanley/pseuds/sedanley
Summary: Bill Denbrough is dangerous.That’s what Stanley has to remind himself so that he doesn’t go falling for those baby blues the way that everybody else does. Bill’s a good looking guy, and surprisingly charming, so it’s not as if Stanley can really blame anyone for falling into the trap so easily, but he likes to consider himself above that sort of temptation.There was not a chance that some boy with choppy auburn hair, whose only sense of fashion was flannels and snapbacks, was going to make Stanley weak at the knees.And yet, somehow, Bill had managed to do just that.





	not just a name on a list

Bill Denbrough is dangerous.

That’s what Stanley has to remind himself so that he doesn’t go falling for those baby blues the way that everybody else does. Bill’s a good looking guy, and surprisingly charming, so it’s not as if Stanley can _ really _ blame anyone for falling into the trap so easily, but he likes to consider himself above that sort of temptation.

  
There was not a chance that some boy with choppy auburn hair, whose only sense of fashion was flannels and snapbacks, was going to make Stanley weak at the knees.

And yet, somehow, Bill had managed to do just that. 

Stanley wanted to call it a bout of pure, rotten luck that he had been paired with Bill for a presentation in their Women Writers course. It was a general elective course for the humanities, which students were required to have three credits of as part of a general education curriculum in order to graduate. There was nothing Stanley could have taken that might have been a _ bit _ more applicable for his future in accounting, but he did love to read— and this course, in particular, had sounded far more interesting than anything else he had skimmed over— so he had signed up for it without a second thought. 

Bill being in the course, however, had come as a shock to him.

Stanley didn’t like to make assumptions, but it just didn’t seem like the type of course Bill Denbrough would be interested in. 

Regardless, he was there every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, seated in the corner, with a pad of paper and a pen, casually taking notes— he had a way of making his interest seem vague, but as they had worked on their assignment together, it was clear that Bill paid attention, that he knew what he was talking about.

That had come as a surprise, too. Bill was full of surprises, it seemed. 

Like, how the reason he was in this course was because he was majoring in English with a focus on creative writing. Bill had explained that he wrote horror stories— the genre itself had always been fascinating to him. He’d read every scary story he could get his hands on growing up and, now that he was in college, he wanted to consume as much content as possible.

“I n-need to have a w-w-wide expanse of knowledge if I want to ssss-s-succeed in this field.” Bill had said. Stanley admired that about him.

So, while their project _ was _ going well, and Bill was a perfectly pleasant person to be around, Stanley was still annoyed. Not because of Bill’s lack of involvement— Stanley had really expected to carry this project, but Bill pulled his weight—but rather because he was _ distracting _. 

They had decided to work back at Bill’s dorm today, against Stanley’s better judgement, and were seated side by side on Bill’s bed, their legs hanging over the edge. 

Stanley’s trying— and _ failing _— to focus on adding bullet points to one of the slides of their PowerPoint, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult to do so when Bill’s thigh is pressed against his and Bill keeps leaning into his space, asking questions, softly, about Stanley’s thoughts for the material, hot breath hitting Stanley’s neck. 

Bill had to be doing it on purpose and Stanley wants to _ scream _. 

As if that isn’t infuriating enough, Bill isn’t wearing that god forsaken hat and his bangs are falling into his eyes. Stanley shouldn’t _ want _ to brush the strands back off Bill’s forehead, but he does. He had foregone a flannel today, as well, in favor of an oversized blue sweater. Stanley can’t stand how he is picturing himself in it, wondering how the material would feel against his skin, how warm he’d feel, how much it would _ smell like Bill _— 

“Hey, are you l-l-listening?” Bill asks, interrupting Stanley’s train of thought. 

Stanley jolts, “Hm? What, I’m sorry.”

He turns to face Bill, sucking in a breath at their proximity. The corner of Bill’s lips are turned up just slightly and Stanley thinks he’d like to wipe that expression off the other boy’s face. 

“Am I _ b-b-boring _ you, Stan?” He teases. Stanley rolls his eyes, focusing back at his computer, starting to type again. 

“You always bore me, Denbrough.” He says, through his teeth. Bill laughs— Stanley _ definitely _ hates how much he loves the sound. 

“Ouch. C’mon, I c-can’t be that bad to work with.”

“Oh no, you are,” Stanley says, seriously, realizing it’s perfectly obvious that he’s typing gibberish into their presentation, “but I can’t afford to fail any of my classes, so I have to tolerate you, for now.”

“I think you m-m-more than tolerate me.” Bill murmurs. Stanley’s fingers freeze on his keyboard, turning to look at the other boy, eyes narrowing.

“Just what is that supposed to mean, exactly?” 

Bill moves his notepad off his lap, setting it next to him on the bed, leaning into Stanley’s space to whisper in his ear, “You _ know _, don’t p-play dumb.”

“I’m certain I _ don’t _ know.” Stanley mumbles, tapping his fingers on the keys as he tries to get his mind back onto their project. He and Bill had been dancing around this for awhile, now; since they’d first been paired up for this project. The timing was never right, luckily, and Stanley was always able to duck away before things went too far.

Stanley had been caught in the trap this time, though.

Bill takes Stanley’s laptop into his hand, pulling it off Stanley’s lap and setting it over with his notepad. 

“We need to _ focus _, Bill—” Stanley’s protests, weakly. 

“Oh, I am.” He says, taking Stanley’s chin in between his thumb and forefinger.

This is a really bad idea.

“Bill—” He starts, softly, but the other boy shushes him gently. 

“We b-both don’t want to f-f-fight this anymore, Stan. You know I’m r-right.” Bill whispers. Any other protest Stanley has dies on his lips, melting as Bill closes the gap between them and presses their lips together. 

Scratch that, this was a really _ good _ idea. 

Stanley leans into the kiss, probably too eagerly, but Bill seems to take it in stride. Stanley didn’t have as much experience with this; he’d only ever kissed one person before, Richie Tozier back in middle school when he wanted to figure out if he liked boys. That kiss had been clumsy, they’d bumped noses from leaning in too fast and nearly knocked Richie’s glasses clean off his face.

As far as first kisses go, it wasn’t terrible, though.

Bill knows how to kiss—he had a reputation, after all. Bill got around, which is why Stanley _ really _ shouldn’t be kissing him back so desperately. This wouldn’t mean anything to Bill, just another notch on his belt, but it would mean _ everything _ to Stanley.

Stanley, however, is not thinking clearly. In fact, he’s really only thinking about _ Bill _ and the way it feels to have the other boys lips on his.

And how he wants more more _ more. _

Bill nips at his bottom lip and Stanley gasps, allowing the other boy to slip his tongue into Stanley’s mouth. Stanley feels hot. He didn’t know kissing could feel _ this _ good. He clumsily tries to reciprocate as Bill’s hand slips down to Stanley’s waist, pulling him closer.

Stanley goes, willingly, climbing into Bill’s lap, trying to figure out what to do with his own hands. He decides to slide them back into Bill’s hair, desperate to know if it’s as soft as it looks. 

It is.

Bill moans softly against Stanley’s mouth as Stanley’s fingers tangle into his hair, breaking their kiss briefly to laugh, breathlessly, “How the f-f-fuck did you already figure that out?”

“Figure what out?” Stanley repeats, dazed. Bill grins.

“That I l-like my hair tugged.” 

Stanley blushes. “_Oh _.”

Bill has that signature smirk on his face and Stanley’s tired of it. He finally knows how to knock this asshole down a few pegs. 

With a surge of confidence, Stanley tightens his grip in Bill’s hair, _ tugging _ so that Bill’s head tilts back slightly. Bill cries out and Stanley feels a thrill shoot up his spine. 

“_F-f-fuck _—” Bill moans. 

“Stop talking.” Stanley demands, claiming Bill’s lips again. This time it’s Bill who leans into the kiss, eagerly, _ desperately _. Stanley’s never felt so in control before. It should probably concern him how much he likes the feeling.

It doesn’t. 

He mimics Bill’s action from earlier, but he bites on Bill’s lip a little harder, drawing a low groan from the other boy’s lips. 

“_Stanley _—” He gasps. Stanley shivers— he’s never heard Bill say his name like that before. 

“Sucker for pain, huh?” Stanley teases. Bill’s hands find his hips, gripping tightly. 

“S-Shut up—” He mumbles. 

Stanley laughs, “Why don’t you _ make me?” _

Bill’s eyes narrow and he kisses Stanley again, bruising, trying to gain control back. Stanley’s not willing to surrender so easily. He was going to make Bill work for it. 

And, boy, does he work for it. 

Stanley’s lost track of how many times their lips meet when Bill flips their positions, tossing Stanley back against the mattress and crawling over him. 

Stanley thinks he forgets to breathe for a second. 

“Not so c-cocky now, are you?” Bill says, leaning down and ghosting his lips along Stanley’s jaw and towards his ear. Stanley tilts his head back, eyes falling closed, as Bill starts to kiss down his neck. 

Stanley’s breathing becomes more labored, reaching blindly to grab onto any part of Bill’s body he can reach. Bill chuckles, hot breath hitting Stanley’s neck. 

“What’s the m-matter, baby?” Bill asks. Stanley whimpers, feeling particularly pathetic for being so weak to that pet name.

“Bill, _ please _—” Stanley begs. Bill obliges, instantly, pressing kisses along Stanley’s neck. Stanley’s vaguely aware of Bill reaching for his belt, but he hardly cares. 

Stanley moans, _ loudly _, as Bill starts to bite and suck on his neck, clearly looking to leave marks— to stake his claim, he thinks. 

That thought hits Stanley like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, he starts to wonder just how many other people have been in this exact position, lying underneath Bill and begging for him. How many times has Bill been able to brag about who he’d gotten to sleep with him?

Stanley presses a hand to Bill’s chest, shoving him away, gasping, “_Stop _, stop, wait—”

Bill’s off him immediately, staring at Stanley with wide eyes, “Are y-you okay?”

Stanley sits up, pushing Bill farther away from him as he gets off the bed, adjusting his clothes, and closing his laptop.

“I’m leaving.” Stanley says, simply. 

“What? W-what’s wrong? Stanley, t-t-talk to me—” Bill pleads, reaching to catch Stanley’s wrist. Stanley jumps, pulling it away quickly. Bill flinches, holding his hands up, “S-S-Sorry—”

“Don’t touch me.” Stanley whispers, eyes starting to burn with tears. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Bill’s gaze softens and Stanley wants to scream in his face. Bill shouldn’t be looking at him with those eyes; with pretend concern. Bill could have anyone he wanted, Stanley didn’t want to be another name on a list.

“_Stanley _—” 

“_No _,” Stanley sobs, voice cracking slightly, “no, just stop. I don’t want to do this—”

“Sss-S-Stan, we don’t _ have _ to, then—”

“No, I said I’m leaving,” Stanley repeats, shoving his laptop into his bag and slipping on his shoes, “I’m not just another quick fuck.”

Bill’s eyebrows shoot up, sounding stunned—and maybe a little hurt—as he replies, “Is—is that really w-what you think this is?”

“What else would it be?”

Bill falls silent. Stanley huffs.

“Exactly. Finish your notes and send them to me, I’ll finish the PowerPoint.”

“_Stan _—”

“Goodbye, Bill.” Stanley cuts him off, opening the door and slamming it behind him. Only then, when Bill can’t see, does Stanley allow himself to cry. 

* * *

Their presentation goes well, despite Stanley’s worry about it. Bill sends his notes within a day and requests the completed PowerPoint when Stanley’s done so he can review his slides. They don’t meet up to practice, Stanley refuses to be alone with him now; not that Bill asks anyway. 

The week following their presentation, the professor provides back their grade. They get an A, so Stanley doesn’t complain. They still avoid each other; things have officially gone back to ‘normal’. 

It shouldn’t bother him, they hardly interacted outside of class, anyway, but—

Stanley regrettably has to admit that he sort of _ misses _ Bill. 

It was another form of punishment, he thinks bitterly, that he had come out of the whole thing more attached than Bill had. He should have known better. Bill was a _ fuckboy _ and Stanley, despite how much he would openly deny it, was a _ hopeless romantic. _ No good could ever come from a combination like that.

Stupid. 

He adjusts his bag on his shoulder as he walks, heading back to his dorm for awhile until the others invite him for dinner. Beverly had a late class on Thursdays, so they usually waited until she was ready to go. He could get a head start on his microeconomics assignment, at least, to kill the time.

It’s only while he’s fishing his keys out of his pocket that he notices someone is waiting outside his door.

Bill.

He’s so angry, he doesn’t have enough time to consider how Bill had even known where his dorm was.

“What are you doing here, Denbrough?” Stanley asks, coldly, brushing past the other boy to get to his door. Bill reaches to catch his elbow, but seems to think better of it, pulling back just as quickly.

“Sss-S-Stanley, could we t-talk for m-minute, please?” He asks, quietly. 

“I have nothing to say to you.” Stanley replies, starting to unlock his door. Bill exhales.

“I have s-s-something I want to say to you, though.”

Stanley rolls his eyes, “I don’t _ care _—”

“Stanley, I c-came to apologize.” Bill interjects. Stanley’s eyes narrow.

“Oh, how considerate of you. I don’t want to hear it—”

Bill groans, “Stanley, I didn’t mmm-m-mean to make you unc-c-comfortable—”

“Uncomfortable? Is that what you think it was? You’re infuriating, you know that? I’m not going to be another name on your list—”

“I have n-no idea what you’re even t-t-talkin about.” Bill says, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Before Stanley can continue, though, Bill starts to ramble, “Look, S-Stanley, I’m sorry I mmm-m-misread the situation, okay? I thought you w-were interested in me, too. I always l-l-look forward to class because I get to s-see you, you know? I’ve w-wanted to get to know you for so long. You’re so… unique. I mean that in a g-good way, you just— I was so _ happy _ when we were p-p-paired together for the project. It meant I’d get to ss-s-spend time with you. I f-finally had an excuse to t-talk to you. You’re so intimidating, I was always too n-n-nervous to try and s-s-start a conversation. But then you were so _ nice _ when we were working. You t-treated me just like anyone else. You joke around, you’re so smart— you would l-look at me for so long sometimes that I— I thought you f-f-felt the same way I did, so— I assumed I had a _ chance _ and, _ fuck _ , I really w-wanted to kiss you. But, I never mm-m-meant to pressure you into anything. So, I’m _ sorry _, Stanley, okay? I understand if you s-still don’t want to be friends, but I n-n-needed you to know that.”

Stanley doesn’t say anything right away, just gaping at the other boy. He opens and closes his mouth several times, trying to find the right way to respond. Bill’s shifting, nervously, on his feet, eyes darting back and forth from Stanley’s face to his shoes. After a minute of uncomfortable silence, Bill pipes up again.

“You d-d-don’t have to say anything, either, I just—”

“Stop—” Stanley says. He’s still trying to gather his thoughts, but Bill keeps going.

“I really _ like you _, Stanley—”

“Bill, _ stop _.” Stanley says, more firmly this time. Bill’s mouth snaps shut. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy and it makes Stanley’s chest ache.

“What do you mean you… like me?” Stanley asks, finally. Bill purses his lips.

“I mm-m-mean exactly w-what I said, Stanley.” 

“So you… _ like me _ like me?” 

Bill laughs a little, exasperated, “_ Yes _.”

“But I thought you just—”

Bill rubs the back of his neck, awkwardly, “I’m n-not really sure how those r-r-rumors about me started, but they’re not true. I mm-m-mean, I _ have _ hooked up with p-people, but it’s— it’s _ always _ meant something to me. But, it’s different with you. I’ve nn-n-never felt this way about anyone before.”

Stanley swallows, thickly. Bill had just bared his soul to him. He’d done so thinking that Stanley didn’t feel the same way as him. Bill was expecting _ nothing _ from this. He only wanted to clear the air between them.

Bill really was a good guy. Stanley had been _ so _ wrong about him. He can’t leave things like this.

After a moment, he whispers, “I like you, too.”

"You do?”

“I— I thought that was obvious. The only reason I left that day was because I got in my own head about the situation. I’ve never done anything like that with anyone before and I—I was embarrassed because I thought you were just trying to fuck me and move on.”

“Oh.” Bill replies. Stanley snorts.

“Yeah, oh.”

“That’s n-n-not what I was trying to do. Just so we’re c-c-clear.” Bill insists. Stanley grins. 

“Yeah, I know that now, dummy.” 

Bill frowns and Stanley’s smile widens. 

“Bill?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to kiss me now?”

Bill’s eyes widen, “Do you w-w-want me to?”

“_Yes _.”

“_Oh _.” Bill repeats, stepping up to Stanley and reaching for his hip. “Is— is it okay if I—”

“_Yes _—” Stanley breathes. He cups Bill’s cheek as Bill holds his waist, pulling him closer. Bill starts to lean down and Stanley rises on his toes to meet him halfway. 

It’s both comforting and alarming how kissing Bill feels so much like being complete. This kiss, unlike their first one, is less desperate and heated; it’s timid, soft. It feels like both of them laying their true unspoken feelings on the table—things that were far too soon to say. Bill holds Stanley like he’s afraid he’ll slip away. Stanley presses closer, kisses him again and again, in a way he can only hope is reassuring. 

Bill is the one to break their kiss and Stanley chases after him, making a noise of disappointment.

“_Wait _—I know w-we are doing this all b-b-backwards, but will you g-go out with me, Stanley?” Bill asks, shyly.

Stanley nods, “I’d like nothing more, Bill.”

Bill smiles into their next kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [@iswearbill](https://iswearbill.tumblr.com/)  
Beta Read by [@Emmithy](https://magicalemmy.tumblr.com/)


End file.
